EvangelionThe Lost Soldier
by Wildcard-JT
Summary: AU and self insert. Resubmitted for grammer and spelling corrections.


Disclaimer and Author's notes: I do not own Neon Genesis Evangelion in any way, shape, or form. The only things of this franchise that I own are the over-priced manga, the box set, the movies, and the two special release volumes...and I really mean over priced. I mean, c'mon... how do they think Otaku afford all that? I spent alot of hard earned Operation Iraqi Freedom "Blood Money" to pay for all that! But anyways...

This fan fic is a BLATENT S.I. If you don't like SI fics, don't read it. And if you do read it you've been warned...keep your flames to yourself! Reviews and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcomed. Yes, I got this idea from another Eva Fan fiction.. I can't remember the title or author of said fanficton, but at least I admitted it. Lost Soldier is not preread.

Wildcard Studios presents

NGE: The Lost Soldier

Prologue: "Mistakes"

I made mistakes to get myself into this situation. People make mistakes every day, some slight like grabbing the 1/2 inch wrench when you needed the 9/16 or forgetting to put the milk back in the refrigerator and leaving it out to spoil. Some huge like not doing proper clearing procedures on a rifle, and putting a nice little hole in your foot. Never the less, people make mistakes...its human nature. The funny things are the mistakes that don't seem like mistakes at the time and come back to bite you in the ass. Mine were more like that, but it damn sure weren't that funny.

After my first tour in Iraq with the 1st Armored Division i got out of the army and came home to live with my long time finance. Things were good for quite a while .It was culture shock for quite some time, being home for longer than a month for the first time in over six years, but overall it was nice. I took a job with the postal service, had a short commute to work, decent benefits and wages. All was well until one night, when all hell broke loose. You see, all the while I was living the "perfect life", I longed for the excitement and brotherhood that I missed so I tried to convinced my finance that I should join the National Guard. But I wasn't engaged to an idiot, she knew full well that I would get deployed to Iraq just as quick as an active army unit, no matter how much I tried to convince her otherwise. There's where I made the first mistake to get myself into the mess I'm in right now. I left her and joined the Guard, I was on my way to the middle east three months later.

I deployed with a great bunch of guys. I got to retain my former rank as Specialist and soon was promoted to Corporal, not a raise in pay but it was a leadership position. One major difference was my job. Formerly, I was a crewman on an M1A1 tank, but since there wasn't any openings for that, they put me in the other 19 series MOS: Cavalry Scout. I earned good esteem with my subordinates and my leadership and was soon recommended for the promotion board for the rank of sergeant. It was on the eve of this promotion board when I made the second mistake to get me where I am right now.

A patrol mission came up, the operations order was given by the Platoon Leader. Soon afterward the Platoon Sergeant approached me and told me that if I wanted to I could stay behind and rest up for the board. I refused, and we moved out with four up-armored Humvees to the craziest sector in all of Baghdad 2 hours later. I manned the machine gun on the third.

During the patrol we came across this divided, four lane street. It looked like almost any other divided inner-city highway in Baghdad, but this place held a special meaning to me. You see, back during my first tour my battalion was involved in a neighborhood raid here on Christmas eve, 2003. That night, not 50 yards away while I sat in my company commander's tank, My Brigade Sergeant Major CSM Cook was killed by an improvised explosive devise that I had just rolled by seconds before. CSM Cook was the finest NCO that ever graced the First Armored Division. It was always said that only the nice guys that you'd never want anything to ever happen to got killed, the assholes lived.

I wouldn't say that was entirely true, but at times it did seem so.

Passing by an alley I heard a distinctive hiss of an RPG as it streaked toward the patrol and struck the lead Humvee, the Platoon leader's truck. Instantly I flipped off the safety on my M240 and hosed the alley with about 100 rounds. Inspecting the alleyway, I couldn't see if I got the shooter, but I focused my attention on that alley and waited for anything to stir. Hearing another hiss from behind me told said that's exactly what the insurgents wanted me to do.

Mistake number three.

Less than a second later there was darkness. No sound, no light, no pain, just pitch black. And then the memories, my childhood, teenage years, basic training, other things. Then suddenly the memories became strange, a little boy crying as his father walked away, the same boy building something in the sand then destroying it. These weren't my memories.

Then I awoke.

The room was unfamiliar. Looking around everything seemed bigger than I was used to. On a desk there was papers that had a language that didn't seem ledge able, and yet I could still read it... Japanese? Looking into a mirror gave me the first clue. Looking back at me was the face of a Japanese boy, about eleven or twelve years old, dark hair, cobalt blue eyes. Quickly I checked my pockets and produced a student ID. The name read: Ikari Shinji.

Awe hell, you've got to be shitting me.

I knew the name, and I knew the story behind it. Unknown to most people I was a pretty big anime fan, I've been to conventions, had a collection, and even wrote fan fiction... unsuccessfully I might add. Taken aback as I was I looked over to a calender on the wall and took note of the year.

2012

Two years, I had two years until this boy I occupied would be dropped into hell in a place called Tokyo 3. If this change was long-term or permanent, then I had a couple advantages that the original Shinji Ikari lacked. One, I knew of all the crap that I was going to be subjected to.

And two, I had plenty of time to prepare.


End file.
